


cooking lessons

by missmagoo



Series: schmoopy kidfic nonsense 'verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Terrible Cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmagoo/pseuds/missmagoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Dean Cain's appearance on "Worst Chefs in America: Celebrity Edition", in which he said (paraphrased), "I'm a single dad of a 15 year old boy, and I cook nearly every meal that he eats. That poor kid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	cooking lessons

**Author's Note:**

> This is nonsense.

“Derek,” the sheriff says, surprised, when he opens the door to find his son’s boyfriend standing on his porch, looking unsure of his welcome. “It’s good to see you, son, come on in.”

It’s early December, though unseasonably warm for the date. Derek looks unaccountably nervous.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the sheriff asks when Derek doesn’t immediately offer his reason for coming by.

“I -- well, I hope so,” Derek says. “I just wanted to ask for your help with a gift for Stiles.” He pulls a folded over envelope from his back pocket, and hands it to the sheriff, looking nervous.

“You know I care about your son,” Derek says, earnestly. “And I don’t want him to think that I -- I don’t want to diminish how hard he works to provide for the boys, but--”

The sheriff cuts him off with a laugh, before clapping a hand to his mouth to stop the noise. He’s looking at the computer printout of the couple's cooking class registration that Derek handed him.

“I thought, maybe, I could spin it as a romantic anniversary present,” Derek says miserably. “But the more I thought about it, the more I worried that he would be offended if it came from me. I was hoping that --”

“You want me to give it to him as a Christmas present, don’t you?” the sheriff says.

“Oh god, would you?” Derek pleads. “It’s all paid for already. You’d just have to say it was from you.”

“I would love to,” the sheriff says, “I’ll even throw in babysitting on the nights of the classes so you two have one less thing to worry about.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek says.

“How many times have I told you to call me John?” the sheriff says. “Besides; you think I haven’t thought of getting him cooking lessons before? I love my kid, but he is a disaster in the kitchen. And he cooks damn near every meal my poor grandsons eat.”

“I’m trying to help with cooking, but to be honest I’m not much better than he is,” Derek admits. “I just -- we need to get better, or the boys are going to die of scurvy from only eating dinosaur chicken nuggets.”

* * *

 

Stiles and Derek get woken up Christmas morning at an insane hour by the twin screams of an over-excited three year old and six year old.

“Daddy! Daddy! Santa came!” SJ shouts delightedly into Stiles’ ear while narrowly avoiding stepping on Derek’s balls, only to then jam a knee into his ribcage.

“Presents!” Brucie shrieks, apparently too elated to form anything resembling a sentence. “Presents! Presents! Presents! Presents!”

They each get grabbed by the hand by one of the boys, and dragged insistently to the living room where the tree is surrounded by all the boxes of gifts Derek and Stiles laid out the night before.

By 8am, the last of the presents has been unwrapped and the living room looks like a disaster area with torn paper, empty boxes, and stray bows flung everywhere.

The boys are happily playing with their new toys while Derek and Stiles curl together on the couch, both clutching their mugs of coffee like lifelines.

“Should I get started on breakfast soon?” Derek asks.

They manage to scramble some eggs for the boys, and attempt to make an omelette, but screw up and decide to just make it “scrambled eggs with stuff”.

Stiles’ dad comes over around 10, and hypes the boys up again with Presents: Round 2.

“Dad, you’re spoiling them!” Stiles scolds when he sees how many gifts each boy has to open.

“I’m their grandfather, I’m allowed,” the sheriff insists.

Once the boys are happily occupied with their gifts, the sheriff hands Stiles an envelope. It has both Stiles and Derek’s name on it, which Derek thinks approvingly was a nice touch.

“Cooking lessons?” Stiles asks, wrinkling his nose. “Dad, I know how to cook.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning,” Derek says quickly. “I mean, now that I’m living with you and the boys it’s about time I started pulling my weight in the kitchen.”

Stiles still looks unconvinced, but when his dad throws babysitting into the deal he finally agrees.

* * *

 

Stiles remains unconvinced of the necessity of cooking lessons until about halfway through their first lesson, when Stiles gets frustrated and throws a wooden spoon down on the counter.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was bad at cooking?” he demands.

Derek holds his hands up defensively. “I never said you were bad at cooking! I just thought it would be fun to learn some new things!”

“Derek, look around,” Stiles says, indicating the other students who are all about four steps ahead of them, with much nicer looking dishes. “It’s pretty clear I suck at this.”

“Hey, we’re doing this together,” Derek says. “If you suck, I must suck just as badly.”

He has to admit, their entree does look a lot less appetizing than the rest of the class’s.

“That’s not -- you’ve only been feeding yourself for the last few years!” Stiles groans. “I, apparently, have been poisoning my sons with my terrible cooking since they started eating solid food!”

Derek is sure, when they leave class for the night, that they won’t be coming back the next week. So he’s surprised when instead of quitting, Stiles turns on research mode the moment they get home.

“You just wait, Der,” he says, his voice vaguely threatening. “By the time this class ends, you and I are gonna be the best damn cooks in there.”

Derek is really dreading having to admit to the sheriff, when they go to pick the boys up, that he may have made a terrible mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on the tumbles at [ minervamagooglie!](http://minervamagooglie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
